


An End is Just a Beginning

by kronette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Season/Series 05-06 Hiatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I never liked the idea of Dean intruding on Lisa's life at the end of Season 5. This is an alternate season six for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An End is Just a Beginning

It wasn’t the end of the world. No, literally, _it wasn’t the end of the world._

It just felt like it, sometimes.

Dean had wanted this for so long; ever since Hell, ever since a fire took his mom away, and now that he had it – he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

He still felt like an outsider at the dinner table, no matter how often Lisa insisted that he wasn’t. Saying it was so didn’t make it so, and Dean knew he’d taken a lot of liberties just showing up on her doorstep four months ago. Sam had made him promise to go to Lisa, and he had, but beyond that –

He wasn’t really a part of their lives. Hers and Ben’s. He had no honest claim to be there, other than he’d saved Ben’s life a few years ago. Even the incredible ‘bendy’ weekend didn’t justify showing up and making himself a presence in their lives.

He knew Lisa was still wary. She knew what his life had been like. He’d shown her the weapons cache in the trunk of the Impala, just so she understood that he was leaving it in there and not bringing any of it into her house. He found he didn’t need to. Life after the non-Apocalypse had been – quiet. No more demons on Earth, as far as the other hunters who reported in to Bobby could tell. That left the normal ghosts, monsters and freaky things, of course, but Dean didn’t have the drive to go out and flame their asses. He’d wanted rest, and he was resting.

He’d spent a few glorious days with sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table as he munched on popcorn and inhaled the 48-hour marathon of _Dr. Sexy, MD_ on SoapNet. Other days, he’d swung on the hammock in the backyard, idly tracing the patterns the leaves had made on his shirt and pants. He’d gone for a jog if he got restless, but even that had faded quickly in the face of retirement.

He was only 32 years old “on the books”, though, and Lisa had made it clear that he wasn’t going to mooch off of her or pull any scams to get income. He started going through the employment section of the newspaper instead of the obits, finding the odd job here and there that would tide him over until Lisa glared at him again.

He needed something permanent, though he wasn’t exactly qualified for regular work. There wasn’t really a call for classic car restorers in Cicero, and he really only knew Chevys. Any other make and he’d be lost, and forget about foreign cars. His marksmanship and accuracy with a knife qualified him for the military, but he wasn’t up for that kind of discipline this late in life.

Oddly enough, his marksmanship was exactly what got him hired at a shooting range a few miles outside of Cicero. He taught women how to shoot firearms to qualify for their license to carry. Some men, too, but the owner saw how the women responded to him after observing him for a few classes and set up special classes just for him. He liked the attention and the pay was definitely awesome, and it wasn’t as if Lisa minded. He’d taken up residence in her guest room the first night and there he’d remained.

Despite Sam’s wish that he have a normal life, he couldn’t impose himself on Lisa forever. It wasn’t fair to her or Ben, and it wasn’t fair to himself. Dean deserved happiness – it had taken a very long time for him to admit that, but now that he had, he knew he wouldn’t find it with Lisa and Ben. No, a pre-made life wasn’t the answer. He wanted his happiness the hard way – by earning it.

The classes were a start. After a few months, they gave him the impetus and savings to get him out of Lisa’s house and rent a place closer to the firing range.

It still sliced through him, every day, that Sam wasn’t there. He’d understood that Sam’s desperate plea for him to go to Lisa’s was actually a way to keep Dean from killing himself or rescue Sam and risk setting Lucifer free. Despite what Sam may have thought of him, he wasn’t stupid. He’d needed some breathing room after everything had gone down, and Lisa had provided that. Now, Dean had clarity to determine how he wanted the rest of his life to play out.

The only thing was, the freaky things wouldn’t leave him alone. Not more than a few days after moving into his apartment, strange things started happening. All the light bulbs burned out at once. Objects moved from the places Dean would set them down, once right as he set down the TV remote. He’d watched it slide across the table, flip across the room and up the wall, to settle on top of the TV. Okay, it was a _tidy_ ghost, he supposed, and just wanted things in their place. But this was _his_ place, now, and ghosts didn’t have an invitation to stay.

It took a lot longer than he wanted to get the list of previous renters from the main office, but he hadn’t lost his stealthy touch. A cross-reference with missing persons or strange deaths led to one Abigail Straeter, victim of strangulation by an intruder some 50 years ago. Police said it was a botched robbery attempt, but after a little more digging, it seemed that an overlooked suspect was an old, jealous boyfriend. Dean sighed. Why couldn’t guys just _get it_ and move on to someone willing to be with them? He rubbed his tired eyes and debated about leaving evidence at the police station. He didn’t actually _have_ any evidence, just a lot of coincidental timing and suspicious activity, but he decided to leave it, anyway. If that’s what was unsettling Abigail, then he’d try to send her to peace before doing it the hard way.

“You hear that, Abigail?” he announced to his not-quite-empty apartment. “I’m going to leave the evidence that I’ve gathered with the police. If they pin it on your ex-boyfriend, will you go peacefully? I really don’t feel like digging up your bones and torching them.”

He printed off what he’d found at the public library, stuffed it in an envelope with Abigail’s newspaper articles and left it on the police steps. While he waited for a news report about the cold case, Abigail seemed to calm down. No more burned out light bulbs and he never had to search for the TV remote. It was actually kind of nice, though he never said that out loud. The last thing he needed was a ghost deciding he was _peachy keen_ and opt to hang around instead of going into the light or whatever.

=-=-=-=-=

He worked, he watched TV and he occasionally drove into the surrounding towns for a beer after work. One in particular in Nobelsville had a waitress he flirted with whenever he was there. She was a brunette, slightly shorter than him, with light brown eyes that sparkled.

He slid onto a barstool and nodded. “Heya, Tandy.”

He watched her hands as she finished with mixing something frou-frouy and passed it onto the waiting woman. Then she turned to him, full smile in place.

“Hey, Dean. Bit early for you today, isn’t it?” she asked as she turned to get him his beer.

It was so great to be one of the ‘regulars’ who didn’t have to ask every time for a particular brand of beer. “Last class was a no-show.” He refrained from touching her hand as she set the bottle in front of him. “George out?” he asked as he took a sip.

Her back was to him, but that view was good, too. Especially when she had to reach for the top shelf and her shirt rode up just. Like. That. His eyes followed the patch of skin revealed as his brain tried to keep up with the conversation.

“Yeah, his kid’s sick,” Tandy explained. “I said I’d take over tonight.”

He blinked innocently as she turned back to him. “Hope you’re getting paid for dealing with the likes of me,” he teased.

She winked and tapped the side of her head. “Double-time. Don’t let the hot looks fool you.”

“Beauty and brains. Where have you been all my life?” he sighed dramatically. She flicked a towel at him good-naturedly. Grinning, he made his way over to a table near the pool tables and kicked back to unwind.

After about an hour, he noticed the place still seemed relatively quiet and returned to the bar. “What’s going on?”

Tandy shrugged. “There’s a big deal in Indianapolis tonight. Some big-wig politician rally with fireworks and stuff like that.”

“How dare they abandon you,” he mocked as he sat on a barstool. He eyed her and she rolled her eyes.

“What?” she asked, exasperated. 

“Tabitha,” he stated proudly.

Her eyes went skyward again. “You’re not going to start that again, are you?”

Since his first time in the bar, he’d been trying to guess Tandy’s real name. It was a long-running joke and with the place quiet, she’d have the time to play. “Tamara.” 

“What makes you even think it starts with a ‘T’?” she teased him.

“That’s not fair!” he declared, forcing his lower lip into a pout. “How can I guess if I don’t even know the first letter?”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to guess?” Tandy suggested as she wiped down the far end of the bar.

“Don’t take away my fun.” He mused for a bit, watching as she bent low to retrieve a dishpan. It was a damn fine sight. “Agatha.”

She whirled on him, laughing. “Agatha!? Where’d you come up with that?”

“Am I right?” he asked, hopeful.

She smirked. “Not by a long shot.”

He sighed and finished his beer in silence. One of these days, he’d figure it out.

=-=-=-=

It took him thirty-six weeks, two days and six hours before he finally guessed her real name. “That’s it?” he stared at her in disbelief.

She shrugged. “That’s it.”

“Penelope isn’t so bad,” he assured her.

She glared at him, hands on hips. “Do you know how often I got teased about money in grade school? ‘Penny’ this and ‘one cent’ that. It was humiliating.”

“Kids are dicks,” he agreed, then blurted out, “You want to go out sometime?” He immediately took a gulp of beer, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

She actually dropped the towel she’d been holding and stammered, “What?”

He finished swallowing the mouthful of beer. “Go out. With me. On a date.”

Her laughter sent a tingle down his spine. “Dean, you’re a charmer and because of that, the answer is no.”

He wasn’t going to be dissuaded. They’d been flirting for months, and he knew she liked him. It’d been a long time since he’d been this interested in a woman. A very long time. She reminded him, just the tiniest bit, of Ellen. Strong, independent, would kick his butt to keep him in line, and would make _sure_ he stayed in line. He kept his voice low, even though it was early and very few patrons were scattered to the far tables. “Haven’t I been a perfect gentleman the entire time you’ve known me?”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Yes,” she admitted.

He took a deep breath and took a huge risk. “Have I made untoward smarmy remarks about your,” he raked his eyes over her frame, “incredible physique?”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “Not untoward, no.” Her head tilted. “The jury’s still out on ‘smarmy.”

She hadn’t rejected him. She hadn’t said ‘yes’, either, but he wasn’t one to push. He nodded once and got to his feet. “I’ll let you think on it, okay?” He slid a ten dollar bill onto the bar. “I’ll see you later.”

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked out of the bar.

=-=-=-=

He took her to an actual restaurant two weeks later; the type of decent, clean place that used to make him uncomfortable because of the family vibe. Now, it was just pleasant because of the company.

He told her as much of himself as he felt he could. How he’d lost his parents and Sam. How he’d lost people who felt like family to him. How he’d come to settle in Indiana when he didn’t actually know a home of his own, but how it was starting to feel like it.

He didn’t think any place other than the Impala could ever feel like home, but when he and Tandy had sex, the first time he slipped inside her, he knew he’d found it.

=-=-=-=

They were back at the restaurant where they’d had their first date. It was their seven month anniversary, and something inside him had been building for weeks. It intensified whenever he touched her skin; whenever they kissed. Whenever she looked at him sideways with that cute head tilt that said, ‘I know what you’re thinking’.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he blurted out after he’d torn two napkins to shreds in a failed attempt to gather courage.

Her fork dropped to the table with a clatter. “You can’t be serious,” she murmured, heat flushing her cheeks.

“As a heart attack,” he answered solemnly as he folded her hand in his. “I’m not asking you to marry me or anything – I just thought I should tell you.”

The flush spread down her neck and he followed the reddish hue with his eyes. “Why the hell not?” she demanded loudly.

His eyes widened. Of all the things he’d guessed she’d say, that had _not_ even been on the radar. “What?” he squeaked.

She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “Why the hell _aren’t_ you asking me to marry you?”

“I –“ Adrenaline rushed his system and caused his head to swim. “It’s too soon? I only have an apartment? I’m not the settling down type?”

She scoffed at him. “Please, Dean. I’ve seen you settle your bones here like it’s the last place you’ll ever leave. You’ve got an old soul shining out of your eyes, like you’ve seen too much of the world. The only thing you _do_ want is to settle down and be at peace.”

And that? Right there? Was why he loved her. “So,” he began, licking his dryer-than-the-desert lips, “If, say, I was to get a ring.” His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “That you picked out. Would you be willing to settle down with me, bad nightmares and all?”  
  
Her eyes and posture softened, and if he’d never know love shining back at him before, he sure as hell did now. Butterflies took off from his stomach and settled in his heart. She smiled at him. “Hell, Dean, if your nightmares haven’t sent me screaming for the hills by now, I don’t know what else could.”

His happiness faded. That was the real reason why he hadn’t just proposed to her. He hadn’t told her all about his life, and he knew that if he held any secrets, they could come back to bite him in the ass. He had never forgotten the mistakes he had made with Cassie and he would _not_ make them now. “Hold that thought until we get back to my place, huh?” He pulled back from her attempt to grab his hands and met her gaze again. “Before you make any decisions, you need to hear something about my past. It may make you change your mind about me.”

She leveled her gaze at him and he fought not to squirm in his seat. “Are you a serial killer? Child molester? Deranged Backstreet Boys fan?”

“No!” he blurted out, stunned by her frankness. “How could you think that?” He shook his head as he registered her last comment. “Backstreet Boys? Really?”

She placed her hand over his and squeezed. “Then I think whatever you have to tell me, we’ll be okay.”

=-=-=-=

Back at his apartment, he couldn’t sit still. This was worse than Cassie. It should be easier; he’d already _told_   Tandy all the really important stuff about his family, about Sam and his parents. He’d just neglected to mention what he did for a living. Or how he’d started and stopped the Apocalypse. Or the fact that the Apocalypse was even an event that had nearly happened.

“I was pulled out of Hell by an angel named Cas,” wasn’t exactly the first thing he intended to tell her, but apparently that’s what his mouth decided on. He rubbed absently at the scar on his shoulder, drawing her gaze there. “You wanted to know about the handprint, right? It’s Cas’. The angel’s. When he,” he chuckled, “’Gripped me tight and pulled me from perdition’, he apparently gripped too hard. It’s his handprint.” He added as an afterthought, “The tattoo is an anti-possession symbol that prevents demons from riding around in my skin.”

The words flowed after that in some semblance of order. “My family business is hunting things. Demons, ghosts, monsters; freaky things. I used to have a ghost here; Abigail. I helped her out, I hope.” He sat on his coffee table, across from Tandy on his couch, who looked a bit shell-shocked. “I told you as much truth as I could, Tandy, I just left out the supernatural bits. My mom did die in a fire when I was four, when Sammy was exactly six months old. I left out the part where she’d made a deal with a demon ten years previous and made the mistake of walking in on the demon standing over Sammy’s crib. The demon killed her and her death sent Dad into a tailspin. He dragged us everywhere, looking for that demon. It wasn’t until a few years ago that we found it and a way to kill it.”

His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Dad didn’t die of a heart attack. He sold his soul to the demon that killed Mom, in order to save me. I was dying; my heart shredded and my insides scrambled like a broken egg. Then a year later, I sold my soul to a demon in exchange for bringing Sam back to life after he was killed.” He slid his fingernails over and under each other, unable to look at Tandy’s face, not wanting to see the disgust or disbelief there. He determined to keep talking until she got up and walked out.

“I was in Hell for forty years, though it was only a few months here. Time runs different down there and in Heaven, apparently. That’s when Cas found me and brought me back to life. That’s when I found out why the angels wanted me alive and kicking on Earth.” He laughed, mildly hysterical. “After so nicely saving my ass, the angels tell me that I’ve started the Apocalypse. THE Apocalypse. Fire and brimstone and the end of days. Lucifer could only be raised by the breaking of 66 Seals, and I broke the first Seal in Hell. Sam and I, we tried to stop some of them from being broken, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Sam killed Lilith, the demon who held my soul in Hell, believing he was doing good. She was going to destroy half the world, after all. We didn’t know she was the last Seal that would raise Lucifer.” He wiped his face, feeling the tears wet his cheeks as he replayed the hardest moments of his life. “Sam and I watched as the cage was opened and Lucifer’s Grace, or whatever, burst from the ground. I don’t know if you remember any reports of this beam of light slicing into the sky in Maryland about two years ago; that was us. That was Lucifer breaking free.”

Another unpleasant sound that wasn’t laughter escaped his lips. “And if it wasn’t enough that Sam and I set Lucifer free, the angels drop another bombshell on us: there are special bloodlines, special people that can host an angel; vessels, they’re called. And our family is one of those special bloodlines. I’m the vessel for the archangel, Michael. The biggest, baddest angel of them all, and I’m the only one he can use like a condom, slipping me on and riding me all over the universe. Only there’s a catch – he had to have permission to use me like that, and I refused. Sam,” his breath hitched and he had to take a deep breath, barely able to think, but intent on getting everything out at once. “Sam found out he was Lucifer’s vessel. The ultimate in Cain versus Abel stories, right? Brother against brother, only we wouldn’t play. Sam held out saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer until we had a plan. We’d lock the Devil back in the cage he was released from. And it worked.”

He lifted his head, seeing through tear-blurred eyes that Tandy’s face was wet, too, her mouth trembling with the effort not to cry. He choked out, “Sammy said yes to Lucifer, fought him and jumped back in Lucifer’s cage, sealing himself up with Lucifer, Michael and our half-brother for all eternity. So that’s why I say Sam’s gone and not dead, because he’s not. Dead. He’s just trapped where I can’t pull him out, or I risk releasing Lucifer back into the world.”

Silence fell between them, Dean exhausted in body and spirit. He couldn’t have spoken more if he wanted to; his throat felt like he’d been swallowing sand. He abruptly stood and headed into the kitchen, where he guzzled two full glasses of water without taking a breath. He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to look at Tandy. “You’re not freaked out by this?” he questioned, eyebrows raised.

She crossed her arms defensively. “The hell I’m not. The inside of my head is a jabbering mess and my heart’s doing double-time in my chest, just even contemplating that what you’re saying is true…” she shook her head and took a step back from him. “Angels and demons and souls and the _Devil_ …do you know how this all sounds?”

He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache blooming behind his eyes. “I know it’s a lot. It’s huge. It’s insane. That’s why I held off telling you. I was afraid of your reaction. I was afraid I’d lose you.” He stared at her, pleaded with his gaze. “Have I?”

She shook her head again. “I don’t know. This is too insane to make up, but it’s too insane to _believe_.” She stared wide-eyed at him. “You’re asking me to believe that all this exists. Evil and good and angels and God and the Devil exist.”

He couldn’t stop the derisive snort before announcing, “Well, God’s existence is still a working theory, but yes, everything else exists.” He remembered, then, that he’d gotten out his Dad’s journal with the intent to show her that he wasn’t just making this stuff up. That he had documented proof. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

He nodded to the journal on the coffee table, next to where he’d sat earlier. “That’s my Dad’s journal. He recorded everything he knew about evil stuff in there; how to kill it, exorcisms, rituals, omens, you name it.”

She appeared hesitant as she picked up the journal, but began to turn the pages reverently, her eyes getting wider as she scanned the words and drawings on the pages. “Some of this isn’t in English.”

He nodded. “Exorcisms are mostly in Latin, though a few other religions have different phrases. There’s some pagan stuff in there, too. Ran into a few of those in my day.” He cleared his throat. “Sam and I added stuff near the end. Angel and demon stuff that we learned. Devil’s Traps, banishing sigils, shorter exorcisms in Enochian.”

“What the hell is Enochian?” she asked, distracted as she continued to flip pages.

“Language of the angels,” he answered; he’d always assumed, anyway. Cas hadn’t exactly _said_   it was their language, or if it was the only language of Heaven. For all he knew, it was only spoken in Cas’ garrison.

She snorted and murmured, “Yeah, right,” but continued to look through the journal.

He gnawed on his lower lip until she put the journal down and met his gaze. “This is all serious, isn’t it? This is what your life has been.”

He couldn’t read her and it was making him nervous. He’d gotten so good at reading her moods and now she was closed off. A stranger. His voice thick, he answered, “Yes.”

She sank back into the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

The moment she relaxed, he breathed easier. She wasn’t running, like Cassie did. There was still hope. He rattled off the first thing that came to him. “I’d have to be to pick this as a career. The pay is shit and the heath care coverage sucks.”

She opened one eye at him.

“The benefits are nonexistent,” he elaborated. “You think a werewolf gouge is going to stitch itself up?”

She leveled him with her glare again and he inwardly cringed. Whatever she was about to say, he wasn’t going to like. “I think there are a few perks to the job. All those damsels in distress. You never took advantage? Not even once?” she prodded, her tone rich in disbelief.

“No,” he answered firmly. “I’d pick up girls in bars in the towns we stayed at, but I never slept with anyone that I helped.”

Her eyebrow nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Never?”

“Never,” he answered her honestly. “I was there to help them.”

Her voice was soft as she asked, “You take the whole white knight thing pretty serious, don’t you?”

He shrugged, growing uncomfortable with the conversation. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Her gaze was penetrating and his discomfort increased. “You got any friends? I assume you’ve stayed in touch with those you saved.”

He licked his lips before admitting, “No,” in a quiet voice. “There wasn’t time for attachments. Not even friends. Bobby is the closest thing I have to a father or friend, I suppose. Cas is a friend,” he added absently.

“The angel Cas?” she asked. “You’re _friends_ with an _angel_?”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s helped me out of a lot of scrapes. Pulling me out of Hell got him massive points, too.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when her gaze returned to the ceiling. “So where is he? Back in Heaven?”

“Yeah. He’s sort of the new sheriff in town.” At her odd look, he explained, “The cage that I told you Sam was trapped in? Michael, the archangel in charge of Heaven, is trapped with him. Without their leader, the angels were in turmoil. Cas was going to try to restore order.”

Tandy was quiet for a bit, then asked, “Where’s God in all of this? I thought He’d be in charge of Heaven, unless something’s changed since the last time I went to church.”

Dean dropped his head and rubbed at his eyes. That was a big question, wasn’t it? The biggest question of them all with the shittiest answer. He settled on a variation of the truth: “Taking a vacation.”

“God can do that?” she wondered aloud.

“Who’s going to stop Him?” Dean countered.

“Point,” she admitted. Silence reigned again for a few minutes, then Tandy spoke. “So, can I meet this angel of yours?”

“You want to meet Cas,” he stated in a flat tone.

“I sure as hell don’t want to meet a demon,” she snapped back. “If I get a choice, I’d rather meet the fluffy one.”

Of all the things to latch onto, she picked Cas? “Sure we can’t drive out and I’ll introduce you to Bobby?” he tried.

She leveled her gaze at him and he sighed and removed his phone from his pocket.

Her tone couldn’t have been more droll if she were a world-renowned comedian. “You’re going to call an angel. In Heaven. With a cell phone.”

“It’s another long story.” He punched Cas’ speed dial, but wasn’t surprised it went into the confused voice mail. “Hey, Cas, nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to see you. I have someone I’d like you to meet. Cicero, Indiana. Apartment 23B, Oak Street, Terrace Apartments.”

“Seriously?” She graced him with another raised brow.

He shrugged and repocketed his phone. “I told you it’s another long story.”

Her eyes widened at something behind him and she screamed, “HOLY SHIT!”

Without looking, he said, “Hey, Cas.”

“Dean,” came the familiar acknowledgement.

“Where did you come from?” Tandy demanded, her voice trembling as she fixated on the angel behind Dean.

Dean rose from the coffee table with a nod to Cas, then sat down next to Tandy on the couch. She immediately clasped onto him. He winced as her nails cut into his arm, but he was grateful she was still there.

“Heaven,” Cas answered Tandy’s question calmly. “Are you the person Dean wanted me to meet?”

This ought to be good, he thought, before he met Cas’ gaze. “Yeah, Cas. This is Tandy Gerber. Tandy, meet Castiel, angel of the Lord.”

He couldn’t help but smirk at the glare that earned him from Cas. “Dean. Don’t mock.”

Dean managed to raise his hands in supplication, despite the death-lock Tandy had on his left bicep. “I’m not mocking! That’s how you introduced yourself to me. I didn’t know if it was some formal thing you guys do.”

“It is not,” Cas informed him with another stern glare. “You were just stubborn and refused to acknowledge that something good and just could happen to you.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I might be over that.” He grinned, a full-on, doused-with-happiness grin. “You see, I think Tandy sort of asked me to marry her. Or made me ask her to marry me. I’m not sure which, but yeah, we might be getting married. Assuming she doesn’t go running for the hills.”

Dean was a bit disturbed to notice that Castiel’s head tilt was almost the same as Tandy’s. “To what hills would she be running?”

“The furthest away from me,” Dean answered, completely serious. “I’m in the middle of telling her everything about my life. You explain why you need directions to find me.” He waved Cas off and slumped next to Tandy on the couch as Castiel went into a monologue about everything from Hell up to the Apocalypse.

He watched as Tandy’s expression flowed from amazed, terrified, sad and upset to settle on this odd mix he couldn’t identify. She was gripping his hand by the time Castiel finished and her gaze was far away, deep in thought, so he focused on the angel.

“How are the new powers working out for you?” he asked once silence fell over them.

Cas took his time answering. “They have taken some getting used to.”

He smiled thinly; the angel never could lie well. “You like them.”

A human-like, impish grin lifted Cas’ mouth. “Yes, I do.”

Dean returned the grin, then started as he felt a hand caress his chest through his shirts. Tandy’s voice was reverent as she whispered, “Your ribs were marked by an angel to hide you from them.” Her fingers traced each rib as if she could feel the marks.

Cas’ voice shattered the quiet moment. “I can remove them now, if you wish.”

Dean blinked. Of course; he didn’t need to hide from Heaven’s masses anymore. Zach was dead. No one in Heaven was gunning for him. “I guess I don’t need them anymore. Do I?” he questioned.

“I have sensed no rebellion to try and free Michael,” Cas mused. “And it would be beneficial to know where you are without having to call.” His irritation at the mundane, human way of locating Dean was clear.

It really didn’t matter to Dean one way or the other, but if he was going to lead any sort of normal life, then it might be a good idea not to bring up the freaky marks along every rib in his body. One chest X-Ray and he’d be a medical freak forever. Dean shut his eyes.

“Do your worst,” he declared, then screamed as Cas pressed against his chest, _through_ his chest, restructuring bone back to smoothness.

“Dean. Dean! Are you okay? Talk to me.” Tandy’s voice was frantic in his ear.

“I’m fine. Just sore.” He rubbed his aching chest, but shot Cas a grateful look. “Thanks.”

Tandy settled beside him, her hand clasped loosely in his. She definitely seemed more comfortable than she had since getting to his apartment. Maybe the biggest part of freaking out was past? Then she gave Cas a _look_ , and it was all Dean could do not to groan.

Tandy rested her head on Dean’s shoulder and stated to Cas, “So. You’re really an angel.”

Cas tilted his head in puzzlement. “Yes.”

Dean felt Tandy’s cheeks push up in a smirk and he had to cough into his hand to hide his laughter.

“Where is your halo?” she asked sweetly.

“We don’t have halos. Or harps,” Cas added in a huff.

Dean _heard_ Tandy lick her lips and it did interesting things to his anatomy, which were _so_ inappropriate at the moment. “What about wings?”

“Oh, those he has. Show her, Cas,” Dean demanded eagerly, anything to distract his body from thoughts of Tandy.

It’d been awhile since Dean had seen Cas’ indignant glare. It was still impressive. “No.”

“Cas, you showed me, once,” he wheedled.

Cas managed a fairly accurate, Sam-patented bitchface. “You were being stubborn.”

“I can be stubborn,” Tandy piped up helpfully.

“She can be incredibly stubborn,” Dean agreed. “You don’t want to mess with her.”

Cas let out a long-suffering sigh. “You realize you have fulfilled your destiny and I don’t have to help you any more?” he stated.

Dean smirked. “Yeah, but you love me. Come on,” he encouraged.

The lights flickered and the large, feathered outlines of Cas’ wings filled the apartment. Tandy gasped and Dean felt awe sweep through him.

“Wow,” he whispered and heard Tandy’s soft echoing sentiment.

The lightshow ended with Cas glaring at Dean, who was sure he had a dopey grin on his face. “What?” Dean drawled innocently.

Cas’ expression shifted from annoyed to expectant.  “Do I proffer congratulations at this time?”

Dean frowned. “For what?”

“Your pending nuptials.” Cas glanced between the two of them. “I assume you will proceed with the wedding. Dean has not lied to you,” Cas informed Tandy softly. “He is a good and righteous man.”

“ _Cas_ ,” he whined, feeling heat on his face.

Annoyance quickly replaced the heat as Cas continued, “My only caution is his sense of humor. It is – dreadful.”

“Hey!” Dean cried, indignant.

Cas pursed his lips and amended, “Appalling?”

Dean’s impatience was growing. “Sitting right here!”

“Juvenile,” Tandy supplied, oh, so helpfully.

Cas nodded. “Yes, that is an apt term.”

Dean stood and threw up his hands. “Fine. Pick on the poor guy who just wants to live a normal life.”

Tandy stood, turned him to her and kissed him softly. “Are you sure you can do that?”

Distracted by the first kiss since he unleashed his past on her, Dean wrapped his hands along her waist and pulled her in tight. He returned the kiss and answered distractedly, “Do what?”

She gripped the sides of his head and forced his gaze to meet hers. “Are you really okay with letting other hunters take care of the monsters?”

He shrugged despite the faint twisting of his stomach. “Yeah. I’ve been doing it for over a year, now.”

She studied him, looking for what, he didn’t know. But finally, she stated, “If you ever want to change your mind, I’ll support you.”

It wasn’t something he often contemplated; going back out on the road. “Change my mind about hunting? I don’t see myself doing –“ he stopped as he realized what she’d said. What she meant. Butterflies took off in a swarm in his chest. “You’ll support me? Does that mean…”

Her arms encircled his neck and he drew her in as tight as he could. “If you’re still willing to buy that ring that I’ll be picking out, would you still be willing to settle down with me?”

Not for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester felt his eyes fill with tears, but for one of the few times, it was in happiness. “You still want to be with me, after…everything?”

“I could do worse,” she murmured, and kissed him good and proper.

Dean thought he heard, “Congratulations,” but every part of his being was focused on Tandy.

=-=-=-=

He and Tandy drove into Indianapolis a few weeks later to check out rings. At the third jewelry store, she pointed at the glass case. “That one.”

Dean breathed a little easier when he saw it was under $1,500. He knew she was practical, but he’d heard horror stories of women going insane over their engagement and wedding rings – to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars.

Then she pointed again. “And that one for you.”

He blinked at the case, peering down at the simple silver band. “Shouldn’t they match?”

He heard the finality in her tone; they were done shopping for wedding rings. “They do match; they’re both white gold.”

He shrugged; he didn’t know much about jewelry other than the necklace – _that could find God_ – that he’d gotten from Sam.

He dug in his wallet for his one legitimate credit card.

=-=-=-=-=

Meeting Tandy’s family was awkward. The lived on the West Coast, so he and Tandy flew out for a vacation that winter. He’d doped himself up on Dramamine and seriously debated about some heavy-duty sleeping pills, but the feeling of Tandy’s hand clasped around his settled him enough that he didn’t freak about not being on the ground. The flight was going well; they’d made it to the Rocky Mountains – or so the pilot had informed them – and their flight was almost over. Of course that’s when the jerk behind them started rattling off stuff about the Superstition Mountains and how planes had gone down there, and he tensed right back up.

The death-grip he had on Tandy’s hand didn’t let up until the plane was at the gate.

“Penelope!” a graying woman greeted them at the airport.

Tandy’s exasperated reply of, “It’s _Tandy_ , mom,” had Dean reacting as though he’d been punched in the chest. It was so _Sammy_ that he had to take a few deep breaths before he was able to properly introduce himself.

Tandy’s smile could have lit the airport’s towers at night. “Mom, dad, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, these are my parents, Libby and Jonathan Gerber.”

“So, you’re the fellow who won my daughter’s heart?” Jonathan suggested with a firm handshake.

“No, sir. It was hard-earned. She’s a stubborn one,” he teased gently. That earned his arm a smack. “Hey, not in front of your parents,” Dean murmured to Tandy, and to his surprise, she blushed.

He caught the sparkle in Libby’s eyes just before he was grabbed in a motherly hug. He stood stock-still for a few seconds, overwhelmed by the affection being given. He’d hugged Sam, even hugged Bobby, and this had that same feel of _family_. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Gerber,” he whispered against her hair as he finally got with the program and returned her hug.

His arm got another light smack, this time from Tandy’s mom. “Call me Libby, please. We don’t stand on any formalities, here.”

His face burned under the scrutiny and he fell back on old habits. “So those are just the rules for the airport? What are they at home?” he joked.

He heard Tandy groan softly off to his right. She saved him from further embarrassment by explaining, “Ignore him. He’s doped up from all the medication he had to take to get here. He hates flying.”

Libby tsked at him. “Why didn’t you say so? We could have come out for a visit.”

“It’s okay, Mrs.—Libby,” Dean hastily corrected. “You only live once, right?” Tandy’s parents took it for a joke, but only Tandy knew the truth – she knew he’d died several times, so it was a cruel misnomer, if anything. The reassuring squeeze to his hand bolstered his confidence.

“I’m impressed,” stated Tandy’s dad, and Dean got the feeling he meant it. “Not everyone can overcome their fears so easily.”

“I come from a long line of stubborn sons—“ he cut himself off before he finished, “of bitches.” It wouldn’t do to cuss in front of the future in-laws on their first ten minutes of meeting. “And daughters,” he finished lamely. “We’re hard to keep down.”

Dean’s stomach roiled as they pulled up in front of a two-story stucco house, nestled among a bunch of other two-story houses. Tandy had warned him that she had two brothers and a sister, but he didn’t expect them to be lounging around on the front lawn in chairs and a hammock. He felt their eyes on him as he pulled their luggage from the trunk and rolled up the sidewalk.

“Hey, Tandy,” a guy about Dean’s height called, picking her up and twirling her around. Dean’s eyebrows rose at the display. Brothers were odd with their sisters. It was something he hadn’t realized until now. The guy’s eyes were kind as he held out both hands. Dean hesitated until he realized the brother was reaching for one of the suitcases. With his free hand, the brother shook Dean’s hand. “Gary, Tandy’s youngest brother. That over there is Asher and his wife Pat, and that,” Gary pointed to the woman in the hammock, “is Tandy’s older sister, Bernice.”

“Betty,” drifted a mildly annoyed voice from the direction of the hammock.

“Does anyone in your family like their names?” Dean muttered under his breath, startled when Gary started laughing. He hadn’t realized he’d said it that loud.

Gary leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t get in an argument with our parents about names. You’ll be here a month.”

“Uh, thanks,” Dean whispered back. He was so out of his depth that he froze to the spot, unable to follow Gary further into the yard until someone pushed him gently from behind.  A twist of his head revealed Tandy with her hand pressed to his lower back.

“It’s not that bad. You’re doing fine,” she encouraged him softly, and he felt his legs able to move again.

Proper introductions were handed out and Dean found himself in a lawn chair with a cold beer clutched in his hand and a faintly shocked expression on his face. He’d never had to ‘meet the family’ before, and all of Tandy’s assurances and gentle coaching hadn’t prepared him for the onslaught of fear and anxiety. Betty had all but ignored him and that was fine with him. Gary kept wanting to chat him up, but he found he was only able to offer monosyllable answers. Asher and his wife seemed to be in a world of their own, which was explained when Tandy said they’d gotten back from their honeymoon only two months ago.

Oh. Was that how he and Tandy were going to start acting? Making goo-goo eyes at each other and blocking out the rest of the world? Then a horrific thought hit him: did they _already_ do that?

A hand on his shoulder directed his attention back to Tandy. “We’re not that bad,” she whispered conspiratorially. “We still notice that the sun is out.”

“Okay,” he muttered back and took a sip of beer.

Her arm tucked into his and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I told you, this isn’t an interrogation or a test you need to pass. This is supposed to be a vacation where you just happen to meet my family. I met yours,” she reminded him.

“You met _Cas_ ,” he grumbled into his beer. “You still haven’t met Bobby.”

She pinched his arm, causing him to start slightly. “We’re doing that in March. I told you, I’m not making a drive to South Dakota in the winter.”

That’s about when Asher and his wife disentangled themselves from each other and Dean watched apprehensively as Asher dragged over a chair and sat in front of him.

“It’s been rumored that you have a classic car,” Asher announced as he leaned back in the chair. “I just restored a ’57 Bel-Air. Sweetest little thing, ever.”

Dean’s lips curled in a smile. “’67 Impala, restored from the frame up. What condition was she in when you got her?” Dean barely noticed when Tandy drifted away to talk to her family. He was so engrossed with discussing cars with Asher that he didn’t notice the sun going down until he slapped at a bite to his arm.

He helped fold up the chairs and trailed after the family heading into the house. He stopped Gary and apologized.

“I’m sorry, man. I’m not – I don’t do well with meeting new people. I didn’t mean to cut you short.”

The slight hardness he saw in Gary’s eyes softened. “I understand. It’s not always easy for us geeks to get along with people, either.”

Dean couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “Geek, huh? My brother was into computers. He was a law student at Stanford, once.”

“I thought –“ Gary started, then began again, quieter. “Tandy didn’t say you had a brother.”

The lump formed before Dean could swallow. “Sam, my brother – he’s – gone,” he choked out as he fisted his drained bottle.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Dean slowly let out a breath. “I know, and it’s okay. I just can’t talk about him yet. It’s too soon.”

“Oh, wow, man. I’m _really_ sorry.” Gary squeezed his shoulder. “How about I buy you a drink?”

“A drink is good,” Dean breathed out, and just like that, everything got easier. He managed to interject into the family discussion around the dinner table, and made Betty and Libby blush at a dirty-yet-still-clean joke.

He had a moment of awkwardness when the subject of bed came up, and was _not_ helped when the supposed love of his life announced to her family and the world at large, “I’m going up to my old room and having sex with my fiancé.” 

Dean’s stuttering protests were drowned out by laughter, and he was dragged, blushing, up the stairs.

“We are _not_ having sex in your childhood room. With your _parents_   in the house. With your _family_   here!” he spluttered as he was shoved into the room and the door closed by a still-giggling Tandy.

“Relax. Even if I wanted to do something, I know you wouldn’t. Do you think I met you _yesterday_ , Dean? Underneath all your bravado lies the heart of a true gentleman.”

He groaned and covered his face. “Kill me.”

“Face it, lover,” she purred in his ear. “You’re an old-fashioned guy at heart.

He survived the rest of the week’s vacation with Tandy’s family. They’d gone to the beach for a full day and he’d gotten slightly pinked, but not too sunburned. They were too far from LA to do any touristy crap, but sitting in the sun under a palm tree turned out nice, too.

He was surprised when the week was up and they were back at the airport, saying their goodbyes this time.

“We’re going to have the wedding in California, aren’t we?” Dean asked as Tandy buckled her safety belt on the plane.

“What?” she asked on a laugh. “It doesn’t matter to me where we get married.”

He took her hand and waited until he had her full attention. “Yes, it does. You have a family; I don’t. Not really. I don’t mind if you want to have it out here. The nicer weather would mean we could pick any date we wanted and not have to worry about your family traveling in snow or ice.”

Her mouth opened and closed without a sound. “Have I mentioned how much I love you today?” she asked breathlessly.

He smiled. “I don’t believe so.” He was so engrossed in kissing her that he missed the jolt as the plane took off.

=-=-=-=

The day was a bit too warm for a beach wedding, but Dean didn’t mind. He _did_ mind the sand in his shoes and groused about it as he waited under the canopy for the Wedding March to begin.

“Stop your fidgeting,” Bobby hissed at him, adding an elbow to his side for good measure.

“Dude, I have sand between my toes and _I’m wearing socks_!” Dean hissed back, then attempted to slap Bobby’s hand. “Stop playing with your collar.”

Somehow, he’d managed to get Bobby into a tuxedo. It’d taken him and Castiel over an hour to convince Bobby to do up the tie, and he’d been griping about it ever since.

Bobby had snarled at him, “Feels like I’m being strangled.”

Castiel had cleared his throat and had twisted his neck, obviously not liking the knot tucked up under his chin, either. “It is a small discomfort to pay to see Dean’s happiness.”

“Yeah, well,” Bobby had rumbled, “Doesn’t mean I have to take it silent-like.”

Music swelled from the beach house they’d rented, and all of Dean’s focus was on Tandy as she walked toward him. If pressed, Dean couldn’t tell you a thing about the rest of the day. It could have been hailing brimstone and fire and he wouldn’t have seen it. All of Heaven and Hell could have crashed the beach and he wouldn’t have heard it. All he felt was the coolness of the ring as she pushed it on his finger and the press of her lips when it was time to kiss the bride.

Later at the reception as he slow danced with Tandy, he blinked in surprise as Castiel tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t think the angel would stick around for the party. “What’s up, Cas?”

If it was possible, Cas looked more formal. “Dean, Tandy. I wish to give you your wedding present.”

“What? Cas, you didn’t have to--” Dean’s surprise was short-lived as suspicion took over. “ _How_ did you get us something? You didn’t mojo it from someplace, did you? Because that’s stealing.”

“I assure you, this is not something you can acquire at a store.” Dean blinked rapidly as Cas touched first his forehead, then Tandy’s. “Heaven’s blessings will follow you the rest of your days.”

Tandy’s eyes were wide. “I – wow. You can actually bless us?”

Cas eyed her squarely. “Not technically, no. But it is my mark upon you, so no harm will come to you or your offspring as long as I am around.”

Dean’s surprise and humility evaporated into abject fear at one word. “Offspring? Cas, you didn’t – grant us a child or anything, did you?”

Cas seemed affronted by the suggestion. “No. But I can if you wish.” His fingers made their way airborne toward their foreheads again.

“No!” Dean and Tandy shouted simultaneously, then stared, astonished, at Cas’ smirk.

“The looks on your faces were definitely worth it, as Bobby said they would.”

“Bobby put you up to that?” Dean asked, scanning the crowd for his ‘pal’.

Cas’ smugness was overwhelming and annoying. “He suggested it.”

Dean’s ire rose. “I think I need to speak to Bobby about appropriateness at weddings.” He was about to stomp off to find his _good friend_ , when Tandy’s soft voice whispered, “Dean.”

Her hand slipped into his and she pulled him back into the dance, and he forgot all about his friends.

=-=-=-=

The next morning – in reality, the early afternoon – Dean and Tandy rolled out of bed and began to tear into the presents. They had another week at the beach house, but Tandy had been poking his side for over an hour to convince him to get out of bed.

After some good-natured griping, Dean stumbled into the living room where the ocean breeze was stirring the curtains. They settled on the floor in front of the modest pile of boxes on the coffee table.

Since they were combining two households, they hadn’t needed a lot of the practicalities of dishes and cookware. They had opted to ask for odd things, like the fondue set (What is fondue? Dean had asked. Like I know, Tandy had answered), camping gear, personalized shot glasses, Loveopoly, LP record coasters, rolls of quarters so they could utilize the ‘magic fingers’ at any hotel they chose, a complete detail kit for the Impala and passes for Happy Fun Land in Indianapolis. They got traditional things from Tandy’s parents: two new sheet sets and a silver frame for their wedding photo. When Dean saw a slim package with Bobby’s handwriting, he stopped.

“Who’s that from?” Tandy asked as she rearranged her legs and tried to take it from him.

He moved it out of her reach without thinking. “Bobby,” he snapped. Bobby hadn’t said anything about getting them anything. Dean had gone out of his way to make sure Bobby understood that standing up for him was _all_ that was needed. And here in his hand was a large, flat package.

Dean spared a faint smirk for the brown grocery bag wrapping paper before gingerly removing it. He held his breath as the back of a picture frame was revealed. He turned it over and gasped. 

He remembered that picture going up in flames in Bobby’s fireplace, after they’d gotten back from Carthage. After Ellen and Jo had died. Dean hadn’t been sure why Bobby felt the need to destroy the only picture of them all in existence. Now, in his hands, he had proof that Ellen, Jo and Sam had lived.

“Who are they?” Tandy asked quietly.

“My family,” he replied through a throat clogged thick with emotion. When the shock of seeing the picture he thought destroyed forever wore off, he ran his fingers over the rough edges of the wooden picture frame, inlaid with what looked like chrome bits from some of the junkers in Bobby’s yard. Knowing Bobby, it probably was.

He settled back against the foot of the couch and began to tell Tandy about the days leading up to that picture being taken, about Ellen and Jo, Cas and Sam, the drinking contest and the rejection of his ‘last night on earth’ pick up line.

=-=-=-=

Dean thought of himself as a simple man with few possessions, but it took a pick-up and the backseat of the Impala to move all his stuff into the new apartment. He and Tandy had decided to split the difference in their respective drives to work and settled on an apartment in Fishers. It had taken two days and three pick-up trips to move all of her stuff, but it made sense that she would have more; she’d been living in Nobelsville for over seventeen years.

The first thing Dean did was hang his family picture on the main wall in the living room. Four pictures – of Tandy’s brothers, sister and parents – flanked it. Smaller shots of her niece and nephew were off to the side. It was off-balance, but he didn’t care, and neither did Tandy, as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Looks good.” 

“Not bad,” he agreed.

“I wasn’t talking about the pictures,” she murmured against his skin. She nosed at his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin beneath his ear.

“You up for a house christening?” he asked as he turned in her arms, his hands going to her ass to pull her closer.

Her head tilted and she smirked. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

=-=-=-=-=

A few weeks after Dean’s 37th birthday, Tandy woke up with the stomach flu. On the fifth morning of waking to Tandy’s retching in the bathroom, he called her doctor and took her to the ER, per the doctor’s instructions. He sat at Tandy’s bedside, holding her hand. She was pale but still insisting she was fine.

“She isn’t ill,” came a voice from behind him, and Dean whirled to stare directly into Cas’ face.

“What’s wrong with her, then?” he demanded, voice shaking. He never did well with sickness; he and Sam had been relatively healthy kids. He didn’t know how to help Tandy and the helplessness was driving him insane. “She hasn’t been able to keep much down the past few days and she’s growing weaker.”

“She is improving even as we speak,” Castiel informed him with that damned air of calm. “I gave you my blessing, remember? Nothing bad would befall either of you.”

“Well, something’s befallen her,” Dean growled, stopped from getting to his feet by Tandy’s hand on his arm.

Cas walked toward the bed, keeping his eyes locked on Tandy. “She’s having what you call ‘morning sickness’. It is an extreme case, yes, but she’ll be fine.” Dean’s eyes widened as what Cas was saying started to sink in. “I believe in seven months’ time, she will be quite well.”

Seven months. Morning sickness. Holy hell. He was going to be a father. Terror and awe fought for dominance, but it was Tandy that broke through his fog.

“I’m pregnant?” Tandy’s declaration was booming and faint at the same time. “We’re pregnant?”

He wasn’t sure what the burning sensation was in the middle of his chest, but he dismissed it as unimportant. Only Tandy was important right now. “Looks like it,” he said gingerly.

“It sucks,” she groaned.

“Looks like it,” Dean commiserated, then started at the slap to his arm.

“I told you strip Loveopoly was a bad idea.”

He felt heat rise up his chest and rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t exactly stop me. In fact, I believe it was your idea to have the ice cubes…”

“If you have no further need of me,” Cas broke into their reminiscing, his cheeks pink. “I’ll be in Heaven.”

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called, half out of his seat as the angel disappeared. He waited for the angel to return, but resorted to saying, “Thanks,” under his breath.

=-=-=-=-=

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Dean whispered.

“Hello, Dean,” replied a voice from behind him, sending Dean whirling and reaching for a weapon that hadn’t been there in years.

“God, Cas, don’t do that!” Dean hissed, standing down as he realized who the interloper was.

Cas stepped next to him and looked through the window. “I stopped in Tandy’s room; she said you were out here.”

Dean felt his insides melt and he turned his gaze to the little bundle underneath the scrawled, “Winchester, Ellen.” “I can’t leave her alone, Cas.”

“She’s hardly alone,” Cas replied as a nurse walked into the nursery and checked on another newborn. “But I understand it is part of your protective nature.”

“You think?” Dean joked, finally understanding what that burning sensation was when he first learned Tandy was pregnant. Joy. Pride. Happiness. He waggled his fingers at the little girl, though she was asleep. “Isn’t she perfect?”

Cas did the head tilt and began to recite, “One arm is .025 centimeters…”

Dean held up a hand to silence Cas. “You’re supposed to agree with me, Cas. Not list all the imperfections.”

Perplexed looked a lot like constipation on Cas. “Oh. Then, yes, she is perfect.”

Dean leaned his head on the glass despite the disapproving frown of the night nurse. “I’m scared, Cas. No, I’m terrified. What if I turn out like Dad? What if I smother her to the point of her wanting to leave home? What if she resents me, like Sam did Dad?”

“Did you not name her after a strong, capable, intelligent woman?” Cas asked.

It was an odd question. “You know I did,” Dean answered, confused.

Cas looked down at the little girl. “By choosing to name her after Ellen Harvelle, you wanted to impart those traits into your daughter. You already know how you will treat her, Dean. You won’t make the mistakes our fathers did. You won’t be absent in your daughter’s life.”

“You sound extremely confident in that, Cas,” Dean murmured, watching his daughter wave a fist in her sleep.

“You lived through your childhood, Dean. You retain the memories of how you felt and what decisions and actions led to those feelings. You know what not to do. Tandy will help you find what it is you need to do.” Cas cleared his throat – actually cleared it – and stuttered as he added, “As I was entrusted with bringing order to Heaven, I thought I had no one to turn to for guidance. I felt as alone and scared as you do now. It seemed I met a man not long ago, who raised his brother in the stead of their absent father. I looked to him for guidance, as I trust his judgment.”

Cas’ words were more of a comfort than Dean cared to investigate. Since he and Tandy learned they were pregnant (well, _she_ was, as Tandy was frequent to point out), they’d discussed a few things about kids. Turned out Tandy was superstitious about kid’s shoes on tables, assembling baby furniture, even picking out a name until the baby was born. Staring down at the newly created life, it was hard to believe he and Tandy were parents. The late night feedings, the teething, crawling, walking, scraped knees…it was all ahead of them. He would be there for it all, because Dean couldn’t imagine not being there.

“I don’t quite know what to say to that, Cas,” Dean began, but when he looked up, the angel was gone.

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hey, Bobby,” Dean whispered.

Bobby’s irritated voice came through loud and clear. “What’s the idea of leaving a message saying you’re at the hospital and nothing else?”

“Sorry about that, but I figured if I left a message saying ‘it’s a girl’ you’d be all over my ass,” Dean teased quietly.

“Damn straight I would—“ Bobby’s tirade began, then filtered to silence. “So you’re a daddy, now, huh?”

Dean turned back to watch the sleeping girl. “That’s what Tandy tells me.”

Pure annoyance filtered through the phone line again. “Boy…”

“No, it’s a girl,” Dean teased, overriding whatever Bobby was cussing at him. “A nine pound, two ounce healthy bundle of joy. And my last, if Tandy’s screams at me are any indication. We named her Ellen Samantha.”

Silence again from Bobby’s end, but this time Dean respected it with his own quiet. “Hey, kid. You know I think of you like my own kin. My own son. A father couldn’t be more proud, Dean. I mean that.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his too-hot neck and started pacing. “Yeah…” he mumbled, not knowing what else to say. “When you coming to meet the whole family?” he added quickly.

“You get little Ellen settled in, then give me a call when the wailing’s stopped,” Bobby answered.

“So, about five years from now?” Dean quipped, feeling that swirly, unsettled feeling in his gut again. He was a _father_.

“Shut it you, idjit. You get all bonded with your little girl, and in a few months, I’ll be out.”

“ _Before_ her first birthday,” Dean stressed.

“Before her first birthday,” Bobby promised. “I’d say take care of that new family of yours, but I know you will. Family’s the other thing you’re good at.”

Dean opened his mouth to say … something. Anything, but he heard the click of the line being disconnected. He took one last look at his sleeping daughter, then quietly made his way down the hall to Tandy’s room. She was dead to the world, knocked out on pain meds and just plain pain.

He took off his jacket and shoes, and plumped up the pillow on the odd contraption of bed/couch. He needed to get sleep because who knew when Ellen would need to eat, and the nurses left the baby in the room with the mom as long as possible. The blissful quiet wouldn’t last long and damn, wasn’t that an awesome thought.

The End


End file.
